When In Paris
by queenconniebee
Summary: A series of chapters following Jacob and Connie through happier times, in Paris.
1. Chapter 1

_This is just a short fic I wrote a while back now, and forgot about until recently after finding it again on my laptop! Hope you enjoy :) x_

"Hey..." Connie rolled over, just opening her eyes before sighing sleepily, her hand hitting cold sheets instead of Jacob's familiar, warm skin. Realising this, she sat upright, noticing then the small piece of paper laid on top of his pillow. She read it and smiled, running her fingers through her hair once before deciding that she would get dressed now, whilst he was finding them breakfast.

They had flown into Paris late last night, after her last shift for four days. Jacob had arranged their midweek stay, her input being only the clothes she wanted packing, as he had insisted that he had absolutely everything under control. And he had been right, the hotel was perfect; situated on a little street just a minute from the back of the Louvre, very central in location yet quiet, and beautifully furnished. As she walked into the bathroom, she took a moment just to comprehend the fact that she was here, doing this, with him. The initial shock wore off quickly, and she was filled simply with a sense of excitement and happiness that came only with when she was with him. 'Love', for her, had never been like this. 'Love' had never taught her so much, never as much as being in love with Jacob did. When he entered the room twenty minutes later, she immediately felt her lips pull upwards. She heard the rustle of paper packaging before the bathroom door opened a little wider, and she turned to face him whilst she finished tying her hair back into a messy plait behind her.

"Wow."

He came to stand in front of her, grinning. She wore a little, white, strappy sundress, her makeup was light and he could see each freckle that stood out on her nose and cheekbones. He touched his hand to the strands of hair that framed her face, pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth before leading her back through to the room.

"Alors, mademoiselle..." He paused, winking at her as she rolled her eyes. "Nous avons le brioche, et des croissants..." He gestured to the opened packaging that laid on the bed, watching as she quickly moved to sit at the top end, legs crossed with her back against the headboard, brioche in hand.

"Good?"

"Mmm." She looked up at him as she ate, motioning for him to sit next to her.

"You don't want coffee?"

She shook her head, and at his bemused expression she chewed that bit faster, tilting her head from side to side as she did so.

"Too hot for coffee. It's not like I have to psyche myself up for being thrown up on today, so I'm fine with just water, thank you."

"Patients don't dare to throw up on you..." He retorted again with a wink, but she did have a point. They'd felt it as they'd stepped off the plane; 33°C temperatures at eleven o'clock at night; heat which neither of them had really ever been exposed to. Connie had barely taken a proper holiday in years, and Holby was hardly an exotic location in summertime, she had still been wearing long sleeved shirts even now at the end of August. He poured water from a bottle that had been chilled in the mini fridge overnight into two small tumblers, and came to sit next to her on the bed, laughing as he knocked into her elbow and sent pastry crumbs flying over the sheets.

...

After breakfast, they filled water bottles and gathered their bags. He wouldn't tell her where they were headed this morning, saying only that she would most probably regret her choice of footwear. Naturally, she ignored him, and the wedged, tan, strappy sandals stayed firmly on her feet as they walked out of the hotel and into the already stifling heat.

"And they're still refusing to call this a heatwave?" Connie murmured, adjusting her sunglasses to lower over her eyes as she glanced upwards at the cloudless sky above them.

"Apparently. I spoke to the lady at reception this morning and she said this is above average summer temperature. August is supposed to be their wettest month."

She raised an eyebrow, and he reached to take her hand as they walked. She looked down before linking her fingers within his, biting her bottom lip as she noticed how the corners of his mouth turned upwards that little bit more.

"Right then. You, me... City of Love..." He swung their arms gently, pulling her closer to his side as they came to a stop, a small group of people in front of them. "Hm. I think we want the eighty five."

They were at a bus stop, metres from their hotel. Inwardly, Connie was amazed at how well Jacob seemed to have planned: the effort and time it must have taken for him to find a place suitable in such a central location, that he knew she would like... Subconsciously, she leant closer to his side, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling down at her. She knew that she had little faith in men, in love, but Jacob seemed to always break that defence boundary whilst knowing exactly how to work around her.

They only had to wait a few minutes before a bus approached, her lips quirking as she took her purse from her bag, knowing full well that Jacob's French extended only so far as food and stock phrases learnt in secondary school.

"Where do we want?"

"Er... Muller?"

He realised what she was doing and was already beginning to protest, but as the bus stopped she stepped forwards, exchanging euros for two tickets in a fluid stream of conversation which left Jacob standing proudly, yet somewhat unsurprised, to her side. Despite the tickets she now held in her hand, she continued to talk with the driver, Jacob glancing behind him to see a steadily growing queue of impatient Parisians on the pavement.  
"Flirting in fluent French, of course..." He murmured under his breath, patting at her lower back and rolling his eyes when she merely held up one finger, before smiling and thanking the man, pushing her glasses up and over her fringe as she walked up the aisle to a couple of seats by a window.

"Okay?" She asked, handing him his ticket before settling her back against the glass.

"Absolutement." He gave her a pointed look, albeit still soft, not intending to be wholly sarcastic. Several stops later, it became evident that she was so not going to broach the subject, so he decided to intervene. "You didn't think that I would be interested in the fact that you speak French, fluently?"

"Oh Jacob, I am not fluent in Fr-"

"Right, stop there. You are."

"I've been to a few meetings here, years ago, a few courses..."

"Oh, so you only know medical jargon and swallowed 'How to Flirt like La Belle Parisienne'?" He regarded her unimpressed expression before exhaling with a sigh. "You were there last night when I was struggling at the hotel."

"I was sleepy! And listening to you muddle through the, I'll grant you completely nonsensical, French numerical system was rather amusing."

"Room ninety two. And all along, you could have quite happily chipped in with whatever it is."

"Quatre vingt douze." She smiled sweetly at him, glancing up at the illuminated sign above their heads which indicated the approaching stop. When she looked back at Jacob, he was watching her, smiling. He couldn't even pretend to be annoyed with her.

"He must've been about fifty. If he'd been even remotely good looking then maybe I could begin to understand why..."

"Jacob, I'm nearly fifty." She said, squinting at him through her right eye as the sun coming in from behind her bounced off the glass of the opposite window and momentarily blinded her.

"Irrelevant." He flicked her sunglasses down from the top of her head over her eyes, winning a smile from her. "He looked fifty. I've seen the photos of you from when you were in your twenties and you look no different, you just change your hair."

They were interrupted by another sharp ding as the bus stopped once more, the two of them quickly standing to move through the growing crowd of people standing in front of the doors. Once onto the street, Connie looked around for Jacob, to see him beckoning her closer to the edge of the pavement, where she could now see a relatively narrow road leading up an incredibly steep hill.

"Up there?"

"Yep. Up there." He glanced down to her feet, but she was already walking on ahead of him, one hand holding the frame of her sunglasses as she took in her surroundings. They kept as best as they could to the shade offered at the far left side of the cobbles by the overhanging buildings, the road seeming to incline more the further they walked. Eventually, trees came into view as they neared the top, the distance between them and the bottom road now considerable.

"Okay, just up here, there should be..." He took her left hand as he guided her through the small patch of trees which lined the top of the hill, grinning when he found exactly what he had been hoping for.

"Oh... Okay."

Up and ahead of them, was a flight of steps that she couldn't, as far as the eye could see, find an end to. But still, she had no intention of giving him an satisfaction regarding his earlier comment on her footwear, and tilted her head to indicate that she was ready to go. He smiled and nodded, knowing full well the extent of her steely resilience, but taking her hand when he sensed her slowing down, the two of them continuing in silence until he pointed out the top of the stairs was now visible.

"So, do you perhaps know now where we're headed?" He nodded upwards, letting go of her hand as she passed ahead of him.

"Sacré Cœur." She breathed, ascending the last few steps before moving to the side, removing her sunglasses in order to properly take in the brilliant white basilica above them.

"Go on then, tell me a fact. I know you're dying to." He winked, and she elbowed him lightly before raising her hand to shield her eyes from the glaring light.

"We're on Montmatre, and the dome there... It's the second highest point in Paris."

"Come on then."

"What?"

"This is nothing!" He gestured down the view of the city that stretched out below them, before leading her up another couple of stairs to then take them to the foot of the building. They walked around the side, until they came to an entrance marked: "Entrée; OVOID DOME."

As they waited for the couple before them to pay for their entrance tickets, Connie felt Jacob nudge her side, and saw him nod to the left side of her to a blue sign, whilst desperately attempting to keep his expression neutral. The sign quite clearly marked the entrance to a staircase; a very narrow, steep staircase.

"Attention, three hundred steps. Three hundred..." She spoke, then turned around to look at him, but he had already turned his back and was conversing with the woman in the ticket office. She sighed, pulling her heel just out of her shoe before slipping it back in, now somewhat well practiced in the act of ignoring this discomfort. Just as she finished inching her toes back to the ends, he turned around, an eyebrow raised as if to say, "If you say now that you're in pain, it's fine, we can do this another day." But she shook her head, moving forwards to stand next to him as the woman began chatting to her colleague in the office, their tickets in her hand but apparently with little intention of actually delivering them.

"Go on, you go up. You'll need a head start with those anyway." He grinned, his eyes sweeping down her legs to her feet before meeting hers again, and she poked her tongue into the side of her cheek before turning, glancing quickly, he noticed, to the sign above the tiny doorframe and disappearing up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the viewing dome, now bustling with people taking photographs and pointing out various landmarks of the cityscape. He walked around, slowly, smiling when eventually he found her, standing with her back to him, facing outwards in a gap that allowed one to bend slightly outwards from the dome, completely oblivious to the people around her, and looking out over the city. He left her for a moment, watching how she seemed transfixed, unmoving save for the occasional tug of breeze through her hair. He stood, letting several people walk past him before moving forwards, slowly wrapping one arm and then the other across her stomach, holding her against him as he pressed running kisses in her hair, down to her ear and to her jaw. They stood there together then, his head resting over her shoulder, both of them quietly stunned by the sheer beauty of what was before them.

"It's beautiful." She sighed, speaking without meaning to, but he smiled at the observation that came from her.

"You fit in perfectly then, sweet cheeks."

"Hm?" She didn't turn her attention from him, her eyes scanning slowly over to where the Eiffel Tower stood seemingly in miniature, until no response was forthcoming and tilted her head around to look at him.

He was already looking at her, and she raised her right eyebrow, noticing that they were now being watched by several people seated on the opposite side of the walkway.

"You're beautiful."

"Jacob..."

He felt her try to turn from him, but he held her still, his thumbs stroking her sides, catching the fabric of her dress slightly between his fingers each time he moved them upwards.

"Connie. You are."

Her cheeks flushed, and just as she tried to dip her head away from him again, he turned her around to face him, so that they stood sideways in the gap, and he lifted her chin gently with his hand, before kissing her. She opened her mouth to kiss him back, smiling as she felt the warm stone of the building suddenly at her back, Jacob inadvertently pushing her backwards. She pressed a hand to his chest, laughing now as he pulled away and began to apologise, aware now of his surroundings instead of simply her.

"Would you like a picture?"

Both she and Jacob turned quickly to the direction of the voice, a man in his thirties standing with a woman of a similar age, both tanned and smiling.

"Would we?" Jacob smiled down at Connie, whose eyes spoke her thoughts perfectly but, as she in fact said nothing, he decided he would take the couple up on their offer. "That's very kind of you, thank you..."

Connie sighed as Jacob pulled out his phone, handing it to the man before taking her hand, and then slipping a hand about her waist as they turned so that the view was behind them.

"Ugh, Jacob. We look like such tourists." She muttered out of the corner of her mouth, Jacob rolling his eyes just before the picture was taken, his hand slipping to lightly hit her bottom in order to guarantee her smile.

...

"Calamari and pizza?"

He tilted his menu down towards the table, in momentary disbelief.

"Problem?"

"No. Just... unusual."

He tried to restrain a laugh as she ran her fingers through her fringe, frowning as its occasionally unruly tendrils seemed to work against her. She eventually lost patience, huffing a little before leaning back into the seat. They had chosen a small restaurant that evening for dinner, and it was already near to full, the two of them no strangers to late meals what with the nature of working hours at the emergency department. Their seats were in a corner of the room, and having decided to sit next to each other rather than at opposites, they were now finalising their order.

"Rosé?"

"Mm. That would be lovely." She smiled, and he smiled back, leaning forward just as a waiter appeared and immediately addressed Connie. As she spoke, frequently gesturing this way and that with her hands and noticing how the man didn't seem entirely focused on just what she was saying as much as the appearance of the woman with whom he was talking to, Jacob moved his hand to rest against her leg, then over on top of the cotton of her dress. He smiled to himself as he watched his fingers disappear under the fabric, biting his lip as he felt her muscles contract and react to his touch. He stole a glance at her face as she continued to talk, and he saw how her breath didn't come so evenly now, and her head tilted towards him a little as his fingers inched higher; all signs unnoticeable to anyone except to him. Her skin was achingly smooth, and warm, and as his hand curled just around to her inner thigh he exhaled, before summing up the willpower to retract it, albeit slowly, to lie back flat over her dress, her legs now moving to cross one over the other.

"Oui, merci monsieur." She soon finished, turning immediately to Jacob whilst the waiter still stood standing by the table, taking his cheek in her palm and guiding his lips to hers.


	2. Chapter 2

The only noise to be heard the next morning was Jacob's quiet snoring, and the infrequent "cheep" of a bird from somewhere outside the window. Connie was already awake, and lying on her side as she toyed with the idea of waking him. She decided against it, preferring to watch him asleep for a couple more minutes before easing herself from the bed and beginning to dress. She would go out to get breakfast, and no doubt she would return and he would still be asleep.

Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched, her movements having caused Jacob to stir and open one eye, watching with a half smile as she fastened her bra, sitting down with her back to him on her side of the bed, in navy pyjama shorts. It occurred to her then that she did not, in fact, know where she was going and that seeing as she would be waking him up anyway for directions, she may as well get him figuring out the fancy coffee machine in their room. Caffeine withdrawal was definitely setting in, heat or no heat.

She turned around, his eye quickly closing and feigning sleep, and she reached to the side of her for the glass of water she had placed there on the bedside table. Picking it up in her right hand, she knelt back on the bed, sitting on her heels as she leant slightly over him and tilted the glass. The first small drop caused no disturbance whatsoever, so with a smile she angled it more determinedly, gasping as at least three quarters of the contents poured out and over him. He sat up straight, spluttering and cursing, but when he saw her sat next to him and the tell tale, almost empty glass held in her hand, his features quickly relaxed despite maintaining his best, although incomparable to her own, hard stare.

"And good morning kisses wouldn't do, because?"

When she gave no reply, struggling to internalise her laughter, he inched forwards a little, taking the glass from her and placing it back onto the table, peeling away the dripping sheets. When he turned back, he paused for a moment, looking at her before swiftly lunging forward to grasp hold of her, wrestling them both off the bed to standing. She fought against him, but to no avail, as he merely chuckled and pushed them across the room and through the door to the bathroom.

"Jacob, no... no... Jacob!" She tried to twist around as he backed her into the shower, her hands balled between them. He turned it on, his arms still wrapped tightly around her as she gasped; the water freezing cold and quickly drenching them both. As the initial shock began to pass and thoughts began to form more coherently, he quickly pressed his lips to hers to silence her inevitable shrieks, her arms eventually finding their way to his neck with her eyes squeezed firmly shut. He grinned, letting one hand divert from her waist to the dial, switching the water off in one quick motion before detaching himself from her completely, laughing as he left her half clothed and dripping, shouting back to her from the room that she should shower again, properly this time, and he would be back with breakfast.

...

"You're very quiet." He squeezed her hand gently as they walked up the Rue de Rivoli, the high, elegant gates to the Tuileries Gardens on their left. Both of them had agreed to spend the later part of the afternoon shopping, much to Connie's delight, for she had initially been wary of introducing the idea. Her idea of shopping and his were remarkably different.

He looked down to the woman beside him, tilting his head in an attempt to garner a response.

"I'm just…" She paused, casting a quick glance upwards before shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm just thinking."

"Right." He tried to hide a smile as they continued walking, knowing that if he gave her a few more moments of silence, it would likely all spill out in a tumble of thoughts and words.

"I don't mean to sound presumptuous. But it would make more sense, I mean, you can use the garage if you needed and I can get rid of the bikes, it's not like I ever use them. I just thought that it would be easier, considering there's no mortgage and we spend most of the time there anyway-"

"Hey, hey, woah. Slow down." He stopped them on the path, leading them to the edge by the gates, in the shade. She stood in front of him, and looked down at where he held her hands in his. "You don't half pick your moments, do you, sweet cheeks?"

She smiled shyly, before shaking her hair free from her shoulders and swallowing, nervously. It wasn't as if this was something she was remotely accustomed to saying. She'd never brought up this conversation with anyone, her and Michael had bought a house together years ago now, which she had stayed in after their divorce. When she came back to Holby from Switzerland, more than two years ago now, she'd bought this one and she was perfectly content to stay there. In truth, she'd been considering this conversation for weeks, and was now partly relieved at the appearance of her outburst, despite the frankly odd timing of it.

"You want me to move in with you?" He spoke gently, keeping his voice level despite the creeping happiness that began to warm him. He could feel a smile lifting his cheeks, and when she recognised this, she began to smile more too, biting her lip before answering him.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Come here." He used his arms to pull her against him, before slipping one hand from hers to rest against the small of her back, lowering his head to press his lips to hers. He could feel her smiling, and he pulled back to look at her, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. "Of course I will."

He did feel a little… Not uncertain, or nervous as such. Perhaps it was a vague guilt, knowing that he had made very little contribution to the home itself. She had worked for all of this, her career was something she had built alone, and made an admirable success of. To this day, his only contribution to the upkeep of her house was the regular replenishment of foodstuffs, including her somewhat worryingly penchant for green olives. He tried to settle this to one side, knowing that she was right and it did make more sense. He would never have expected her to agree to move in with him, yet there was also little point in him paying the money he did for a house in which he barely passed any time in anymore.

"Oh, but hang on. The garage?"

He took her hands back in his, watching as momentary confusion passed over face.

"Hm?"

"You said something about me using the garage?"

At this, her expression moved seamlessly into one of composed nonchalance. "I'm not having a gym in the house, muscles. It's a compromise."  
He laughed, bringing her to his chest and resting his head above hers, before pulling back to place a kiss on her forehead.

"Right, come on then you. Lead on."

Fifteen minutes or so later, she motioned for them to turn right, pointedly ignoring his raised eyebrow. She presumed that he thought they would head to the Champs-Élysées, and they would, but there was somewhere else she wanted to go first. They passed the Palais de L'Élysée, and continued for a little while longer until she saw the black awning she had been looking out for.

"No." He saw the lettering, and stopped them. His expression was however unable to match his stern tone. He couldn't help but smile.  
"Come on!" She tugged at his arm, unsuccessfully.

"This isn't going to be a twenty minutes, in and out job, is it?" He lifted her chin affectionately, before pressing the tip of his nose to hers in an eskimo kiss. "Don't answer that…" He then added, thinking to himself that in actual fact, this could all work out quite well.

Very well.

"Okay, well how about I give you an hour…" He trailed off as he watched her raise an eyebrow. "… and a half. Then I'll come back here, and we can continue on. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." She reached up to kiss him once more, before adjusting her bag and turning to go through into the shop. He watched her through the window for a minute, he saw how she looked perfectly in place, a shoe which he could have sworn was near enough identical to a pair she wore religiously at work, poised in her hand as she inspected it. As if she knew she was being watched, she glanced out of the window, her smile widening as he exaggerated a sigh and rolled his eyes at her before turning to head back the way they had come.

…

"Come on then, let me guess. They're black, red-soled and patented." Jacob winked at her as he led her down the slope to the Seine, the night now darkened and infused with chatter and laughter, the lights from the bridges and lampposts glinting in the water that lapped at the edges of the walled stone path below.

"Actually, they're suede."

He chuckled in response, and as they neared the bottom of the slope he scanned the stone edge for a space for the two of them. The river was a hugely popular destination for late evening picnics, but the crowds weren't an unpleasant feature. The small groups gathered and talked for as far as the eye could see, and it was beautiful.

He noticed her pause beside him, somewhat mesmerised. He smiled, before nudging her side slightly and gesturing for them to continue walking, until they found they found a space several metres along from one of the many ornate bridges that connected to the Île de la Cité.

"So, are you going to tell me-"

She stopped, when from the new bag he had been carrying since he had met her outside the Louboutin store earlier, he produced a blanket, and laid it down in front of them. He then placed the bag down to the side of it, and took hers from her, before gesturing for them to sit down. She did so, and watched as he spread before them wine, glasses, bread and olives, fruit and a bag of chocolate coated madeleines.

"Does that answer your persistent questioning?"

She looked directly at him, her expression soft and illuminated by the subtle orange light of the lamppost behind them.  
"I supposed it does..." She didn't break his gaze as she leaned across the blanket to kiss him, smiling before dipping her head to pull back, reaching her hand into the pot of olives and popping one quickly into her mouth.

...

Some time later, they finished, and Jacob dutifully began to pack away the empty pots and packets to take back to the hotel. When he turned back around, he almost dropped the glass and bottle he had been holding, his intention to ask her whether she wanted to finish the wine momentarily abandoned. Her knees were brought up to near her chest, one arm slung loosely about her shins she lit a cigarette to the side of her, sheltering the unsteady flame of the lighter from the slight breeze. He watched her until she had succeeded, seemingly unaware of her being the subject of his pointed gaze.

"You were doing so well. I knew there had to be something, some fatal flaw."

She turned to him then, brushing her hair from her face with one hand.

"It's not a habit, you know it isn't. Just an occasional occurrence."

"I don't get why. Horrible things."

She smiled, placing the cigarette between her lips and turning back to face the river.

"Oh, shush. When one is in Paris, one can indulge herself."

"One would also think that she would know better."

"Mm. But when did knowing better ever stop anyone..." She murmured, before turning to look at him, her eyes dark and her hair blowing gently about her face. She seemed a little far away, in reverie; but then again that could be quite simply as a result of the inordinate amount of wine which she had consumed.

Eventually, she stubbed out the cigarette on the warm ground next to the blanket, shifting to take her near empty glass and so that she could sit closer to him. Inwardly, she loved how she no longer needed to search within herself for a way to justify the somewhat unfamiliar desire to be emotionally, as well as physically, close to another. She smiled to herself, quite blissfully content.

"You know, we've been sleeping together for a longer amount of time now, in the time that we've known each other, than we've not been. How lovely is that?"

"Very lovely, Little Miss Drunk. I'm also very glad to know that you must have spent a considerable amount of time thinking about us sleeping together in order to work that out, in your current state."

"Mmm." That was all she supplied, bringing the glass to her lips once more and finishing the last dregs of wine in there. He took it from her hand then, placing it down gently to the side of him. She sighed, flicking her hair behind her back before placing her hands to stretch out behind her, back arched, her head tilted to the sky. She stayed like that for a minute or so, her eyes closed; but a content smile gracing her features, the darkening light emphasising her jaw, her cheekbones, her hair just catching in the light offered by the dim orange lampposts that lined the far edge of the wall behind them. When she felt his hand cover one of hers, she slowly brought her head back straight, eyes opening and her cheek nestling into her shoulder as she turned slightly to see him. She glanced once to his lips, flicking her eyes briefly up to his and biting gently down on her own lower lip, breaking into a smile as he leaned over to lower her back to the floor, her legs still folded in their butterfly like position. He didn't kiss her, but guided her arms to rest above her head on the blanket, and gently twisted her hair around in his fingers. It smelt faintly of smoke, but it wasn't unpleasant. On her, it was quite the contrary.

"I love you."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and he saw her mouth twitch before she opened them, raising one hand to curl her fingers in his hair.

"I love you too."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before lying down next to her, bringing his arms around her as he pulled her to his side, dropping kisses into her hair until her eyes shut again, and she was sleeping.


End file.
